Vodka Pancakes and TeaDrinking Heroes
by Kishiro Kitsune
Summary: A collection of stories centering around the Braginski-Williams and Kirkland-Jones families. First up, Canada and Russia share a peaceful moment in the kitchen before chaos has a chance to descend.
1. Dancing

Part of a series called "The Rising Generation". You don't need to read any other parts of the series to understand this.

Warnings: mentions of mpreg through the stories, but nothing detailed. You could probably get through this imagining the kids are adopted if you really wanted.

**Vodka Pancakes and Tea-Drinking Heroes**

_1. Dancing_

Canada had always been fond of cooking. For a long time it seemed as though he would only ever cook for himself and maybe America when his brother remembered him long enough to visit. With a family to cook for, he loved it even more.

He hummed aloud as he bustled about, preparing a feast for their monthly family dinner. They'd done a cookout-style dinner the month before at America's house, so he decided it would be best to do something more multicultural, especially since they were having a few extra guests.

Canada began singing softly, swaying back and forth as he let his mind wander. He tried not to think of what a disaster the dinner would inevitably turn out to be and just focus on the fact that England had remembered it was his turn to host and had actually called him two weeks before to remind him. He knew America hadn't' said anything to the Briton, since he had the habit of calling the night before (or day of) and thinking that was an appropriate heads-up.

He smiled as he remembered the call he'd gotten from Japan the week before, thanking him for inviting himself, China, their son Mamoru, and Hong Kong to dinner. France had called him the day after, making sure the dinner hadn't changed locations or time like it had so many times before.

And then, earlier that day, he received a brief message from Iceland, who informed him he may be a little late, but that he would be there.

The only calls he hadn't gotten were the ones from Ukraine and Belarus, both of whom talked to Russia instead.

Canada sensed Russia's approach before he felt himself enveloped in a hug from behind. The Russian swayed with him, waiting until he set aside his cooking utensil before turning him around. Canada automatically wrapped his arms around his tall lover's neck.

"What brought this on?" He asked.

Russia smiled. "It looked like you were having fun dancing, so I decided to join you."

"Worried about your sisters?"

Russia winced slightly. "Probably as much as you are worrying about China and England."

Canada chuckled, agreeing wholeheartedly with Russia. "I know it wasn't fair to do this without telling them, but it needs to happen sooner or later. Especially if what Mikhail says about Avalon and Mamoru being friends is true."

With several nations having children, it had become necessary to set up a room for them to play in during World Conferences. Hong Kong and Prussia were typically the ones chosen to watch after them and had done a great job over the years. Canada could only imagine how awkward being in that room was for Hong Kong, with Mamoru being his half brother and Avalon being his half sister. (Though neither she nor Mamoru were aware of that. In fact, very few nations were aware of it. Canada only knew because of America.)

"My Canada is very sneaky," Russia said, sounding amused.

Together they danced, at first continuing to sway back and forth, like a typical high school prom slow dance. Then Canada repositioned Russia's hands and led him in a waltz before his love figured out the movements for himself and took the lead.

"America will complain about not having hamburgers," Russia said.

"He'd complain even if I did make them," Canada replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'd rather avoid another lecture on how to make the perfect hamburger. If he wants one so badly, he can make the fifteen minute drive into town and go to one of those fast food places he's so fond of. Though if he tries to take over my kitchen to make his own, I just might have to club him over the head with a hockey stick."

The thought made Russia giggle gleefully. "You will let me watch, da?"

"Of course!"

A loud sizzling sound captured Canada's attention. His blue eyes went wide as he pulled away from Russia to face the stove. "Oh no! The food!"

.

* * *

><p>End<p>

* * *

><p>.<p>

**Moscow**, Russia - Mikhail Irvine Williams - wavy, silvery blond hair - light violet eyes

Avalon Kirkland-Jones - wavy blonde hair - 1 blue eye, 1 green eye

Mamoru Wang - black hair - amber-brown eyes

I'll leave it up to your imagination how a dinner with Russia, Canada, and Mikhail ; England, America, and Avalon ; France ; Belarus and Ukraine ; China, Japan, Mamoru, and Hong Kong ; and Iceland would go.

Next: _Maple Syrup_


	2. Maple Syrup

**Vodka Pancakes and Tea-Drinking Heroes**

_2. Maple Syrup_

Canada was used to coming home to weird and often bizarre things. It was to be expected when one had Russia as a lover; America and Seychelles as siblings; France as a papa of sorts; England, who saw all sorts of odd things, as a sort of brother-in-law; a gang of Asians who enjoyed invading his home every now and then; two "sister-in-laws", one of whom was crazy and the other who burst into tears over practically everything; and an 18-year-old son who loved nothing more than inviting his crazy Nordic best friend over.

That being said, nothing could have prepared him for what he came home to one evening after dropping Russia off at the airport.

Canada paused just inside the kitchen, his eyes roving over the once-pristine counters, floors, walls, and the polar bear who was sitting on the table, licking his paws clean. Slowly, he turned his gaze to his son and his two accomplices, who at least had the decency to look guilty for what they'd done.

"Mikhail, Tuomas, Avalon," he said slowly. "Why is my kitchen covered in maple syrup?"

There was a moment of silence before Tuomas, being the most polite of the three teens, spoke up. "We just wanted to see if-"

"We could make pancakes!" Avalon quickly interrupted. "That's what we were doing. Making pancakes."

Canada didn't need to look around to know that was a lie. "Pancakes," he repeated in a doubtful tone.

Again, there was a moment of silence. Then Avalon cleared her throat.

"Umm… they're invisible. The pancakes. They're, um, invisible pancakes."

Canada closed his eyes, slowly counted to five, and decided he didn't want to know what the three were up to. "I'm going to go run errands in town and pick up some pizza. If the maple syrup mess is cleaned up by the time I get back, we will never speak of this again."

"Okay, papa. We'll clean it up," Mikhail promised with a smile.

"Good," Canada said. He took one last look at his kitchen, then shook his head and walked out of the house.

* * *

><p>End<p>

* * *

><p>The next one should be more of an actual introductory story. This scene popped into my head when I was in the middle of writing the first one and I couldn't help but shit down and write it.<p>

**Mikhail** - Moscow, Russia  
>Parents: Russia and Canada<p>

**Tuomas** - Helsinki, Finland  
>Parents: Sweden and Finland<p>

**Avalon** - London, England  
>Parents: America and England<p> 


	3. Inappropriate Reading Material

**Vodka Pancakes and Tea-Drinking Heroes**

_3. Inappropriate Reading Material_

It was with a sense of relief that America arrived at the London home he shared with England. He'd spent a very long week dealing with his government officials and wanted nothing more than to sweep his darling daughter up into his arms and swing her around and hear that adorable laugh of hers. Then he'd attempt the same with England, get smacked and called names for it, and ignore England completely so he could kiss him senseless.

America grinned as he twisted open the door and stepped inside, carefully setting his duffel bag on the floor so he wouldn't alert the two to his arrival. He slowly shut the door, making sure it made as little noise as possible. Like a ninja, he crept down the hall, heading to where he heard Avalon's light chattering.

_Talking to her imaginary friends again, just like England,_ America thought fondly.

He peeked around the corner. There, on the floor surrounded by wooden blocks with letters and numbers, was Avalon. England had dressed her in a pink dress for the day and had affixed a small crown in her hair, making her look like a young princess from the fantasy books she loved so much.

England himself was relaxing in one of the comfortable armchairs, reading a book with a simple blue cover.

America narrowed his eyes at the faint blush on his lover's cheeks. _He's not… He had better not be! Not in front of Avalon!_

New goal in mind, America marched into the room, heading straight for England. The man let out a startled yelp when he finally noticed the American, his blush growing brighter as he quickly snapped the book shut and tried to hide it away.

"A-America! You're home early!" England stammered, continuing with the game of keep-away even as the taller blond threw himself over his lap in an attempt to swipe the book. "OW! You git, watch where you're elbowing!"

"Well maybe if you'd give me the damn book-"

"I don't see how that's any of your business!"

"Maybe I'm just-_Ooof! _Curious!"

"You're never interested in what I'm reading!"

"Yeah, but that never stops you from trying to get me to read!"

Avalon watched her parents bicker with mild interest for a few seconds. She sighed lightly when they continued on like usual, paying no attention to the fact that she was still in the room.

A green, rabbit-like creature with wings flew down to rest next to her leg.

"They're so weird, Minty," Avalon said.

Flying mint bunny, nicknamed 'Minty', cocked her head sideways. "They're in love."

Avalon crinkled her nose, glancing over at her parents just as America swiped the book at last, flipping it open with a cry of _"Ah-ha! I knew it!" _

"Give it back!" England yelled.

"No! This'll teach you to read p- _you know what_ in front of Avalon!"

Avalon turned back to her blocks. "I never wanna fall in love."

* * *

><p>End<p>

* * *

><p>This little thing was born from a picture I came across of England and France with young America and Canada. In it, England is reading porn and covering Canada's eyes to make sure he doesn't see, while America plays with France's hair. Somehow, that led to this.<p>

Poor Avalon, she probably has the most dysfunctional parents.

It's nice to have something to update with, even if it is really short. Been sort of busy the past couple of days, so I haven't had much time to write. Now that I have time, I figured should write something for TRG, since it's been a while.


	4. Through Time London vs Paris

**Vodka Pancakes and Tea-Drinking Heroes**

_4. Through Time (London vs. Paris)_

It was their destiny to be rivals, Avalon thought. Just like their parents.

As the representative of London, England there was no way she could possibly be friends, or even on good terms, with the girl who represented Paris, France. Never mind that Paris was only six and she was twenty-four the first time they met and she shouldn't pick fights with such a young girl.

It was engrained in her very being; the age-old rivalry between the French and the English. Or so her daddy would tell her with a huge grin on his face, watching her papa work up a fuss over the infuriating country of love.

She thought she may have been able to stand the other capital better if she didn't see her so often. While she saw most of the others when their parents were busy with world meetings, since they all continued to gather in the smaller conference room though most of them were old enough to stay by themselves, the young Parisian was a common guest in the Kirkland-Jones household. Avalon frequently heard her papa complaining about France not knowing how to best care for her, and so he'd visit so he could badger the Englishman for tips. She sometimes wondered if he did it more to annoy her papa, since he ignored the advice and did whatever he wanted.

However, because of that, she was often tasked with keeping an eye on the doll-like child, with her frilly dresses and perfectly coiled blonde hair.

When she first met Claire Bonnefoy, she couldn't help but find her cute. However, her initial fondness for the girl turned to annoyance when she discovered the only language the girl spoke was French.

"Dad," Avalon hissed at her American parent. "She's staring at me!"

America didn't pay her much attention, merely grinning and patting her on the shoulder. "She's just a kid, Av. Maybe she's curious. Ah, 'scuse me."

Avalon scowled as her dad hurried away to rescue England from the evil clutches of France. She knew it was childish of her to be so bothered by Claire, but she couldn't help it! It didn't help that there were so many mysteries surrounding the girl.

Who was her mother?

Why did France wait so long before introducing her?

And why was she _still _staring at Avalon?

"What?" Snapped the Londoner. "What do you want? Stop staring at me!"

Claire continued to stare.

Avalon huffed and turned away. She was one dealing with her. She'd stay in the room and watch after her like her papa asked, but that was it.

She flopped down in her papa's favourite chair by the window, absent-mindedly picking up the book he'd set aside when France arrived. _'Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, an old favourite,'_ she thought, fondly running her fingers over the worn cover. _'Papa used to read it to me before bed. I remember daddy would try, but he'd give up and decide to make up stories instead.'_

She flipped it open, the pages turning with ease, and began to immerse herself in the wonderful text. Before long she felt a tug at her jeans as Clair hoisted herself up into her lap. Avalon frowned, but moved her arms so the child could settle against her comfortably.

"I don't suppose you'd have any appreciation for this sort of thing," she murmured.

"B-book!" Claire pronounced with some difficulty. She turned her head so her clear blue eyes could meat Avalon's mix-matched blue and green. "Read?"

She looked so hopeful that Avalon couldn't possibly say no. Flipping the book back open, the older girl picked up where she'd left off, knowing Claire wouldn't understand her words anyway.

"'_I should like to meet him,' I said. 'If I am to lodge with anyone, I should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I…'"_ (1)

* * *

><p>By the time Claire turned nine, Avalon found herself wishing that the Parisian had never learnt English. She was beyond infuriating with her flowery words and good looks. Avalon almost felt shame for being envious of the child's perfect hair, as hers was always messy and wild, never doing what she wanted it to.<p>

"Oh, London, your style is absolutely horrid. You will let me fix, oui?"

Avalon quite literally snapped her mechanical pencil in half, scratching a dark line across the paper at the same time. Her nostrils flared as she turned to face the one she was beginning to truly feel hatred for. "_Out,_" she growled, pointing to the door.

Claire pouted, seemingly disappointed, though her sparkling eyes told a very different story. "I only wish to help. If I could just have a moment to correct your taste in clothes "

Avalon stood abruptly. "I said _**out**__, _Frog! Or did you not hear me?" She tossed aside the remnants of her pencil, thought it was more of a violent throw since several of the larger pieces embedded themselves in the wall.

Claire's humour at the situation vanished and she bolted for the door with Avalon fast at her heels. Her frantic screams for help did not escape the notice of the adults in the house.

"Claire, _mon petit, _what—"

"Papa!" She shrieked, diving into his arms. _"Avalon's trying to kill me!"_

England was already standing, a cup of hot tea in his hands, and narrowed his eyes as his daughter stormed into the room. "Avalon Siofra Kirkland-Jones, what on earth is the matter with you?"

Avalon stopped walking, though her anger remained strong. Eyes blazing, she pointed an accusatory finger at the French girl. "She won't leave me alone! I'm trying to get some work done and she's right there the entire time! Taunting me! And I'm sick of it!" Her glare went from her papa to Claire and she hissed "I wish you had never been born!"

Claire gasped, her eyes filling with true tears. France stiffened, clutching his precious baby girl tightly and whispering words of endearment in French. England frowned at Avalon, disappointment evident on his visage.

"Avalon, though you look fourteen, you are twenty-seven years old and know better than to say such things," England said in a dangerously quiet voice. "Apologize to her and go to your room."

"But—"

"_Apologize."_

Avalon clenched her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest. She would never apologize, not to that French brat, not even when her papa looked at her in such a way that promised pain if she didn't do as she said. (Though really it would be her dad inflicting the pain. She knew she'd be forced to live off of her papa's dreaded scones for the next few days.)

She turned on her heel and walked away, ignoring her papa's demands for her to turn around and come back.

'_I miss Mamoru and Friedrich,'_ she thought as she slammed her door shut. _'They would understand.'_

* * *

><p>Avalon was woken by someone gently stroking her hair. Blinking back sleep, she groaned and struggled to roll over and see who it was. Her jaw dropped when she saw it was Claire hovering over her with a secretive smile.<p>

"Paris!" She hissed quietly, not wanting to wake her parents, who were in the tent next to hers. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Waking you up," Paris whispered with a secretive smile. "Come, I want to show you something. Get your shoes."

Avalon eyed her distrustfully as the other girl moved away, silently exiting the tent. Knowing better than to make Claire wait, lest she stir up trouble and wake their parents, she quickly pulled on her shoes and groped for her flashlight before leaving the tent.

In her opinion, the camping trip was a terrible idea. Sure, she didn't mind the forest or sleeping outside, but she hated the fact that the Bonnefoy's were with them. Had it just been her, daddy, and papa, she would have been the happiest girl in the world.

"Let's go!" Paris whispered, latching onto her hand and pulling her off towards the trees. "You're going to love this!"

Avalon cast a forlorn glance back at her tent. She would much rather sleep than go adventure in a dark forest in the middle of the night. "This had better be good, Paris."

"It is. You'll love it. Promise!"

Avalon let herself be pulling along, focusing more on the scenery in case Claire got them lost and she had to lead the way back to camp. Fireflies glowed softly around them, blinking between trees and bushes and various other bits of nature.

She made a mental note to sneak off and look for faeries in the morning. She bet she could find a fair few to talk to.

Many minutes passed before Paris finally slowed to a stop and released London's hand. "Look," she said, pointing. "Pretty, isn't it?"

Avalon looked, wanting to see what was so important that she had to be dragged out of bed at such an hour. A gasp slipped past her lips as she began to take it in.

A body of water stretched before them, still enough to reflect the full moon and starry sky. Fireflies danced through the air. Frogs sang and crickets fiddled. A magnificent willow extended leafy tendrils to skim the surface of the water, causing small ripples to blossom whenever a gently breeze ruffled the flowing branches.

"Wow…" Avalon found herself lost for words. "Claire, it's beau—_what in God's name are you doing? _Put your clothes back on this instant!"

Claire laughed as she shimmied out of her shorts and tossed them aside, leaving her as naked as the day she was born. She winked at London and said airily: "You didn't think we came all the way out here just to look at it, did you?"

Avalon's cheeks blazed with fire as she wildly looked around, doing anything she could to avoid casting her eyes upon the Parisian. "I-I- you! Put your bloody clothes back on!" She sputtered, hardly believing how quickly the other girl had removed her clothing.

"I guess you're too chicken," Claire said with a taunting smirk. "Pity. I thought that, you being a fairy lover and all, you'd be perfectly okay with jumping in a lake at night. I guess I'm the only one brave enough.

The next thing Avalon heard was a loud splash as Claire dove into the water, disturbing the tranquility of the picturesque scene.

She stubbornly set her jaw. _'She did __**not**__ just_—_that smarmy_—_Frog!' _She growled and hastily ripped her shirt over her head, shivering as the cool summer air hit her bare skin. _'We'll see who the brave one is!'_

Claire squealed in delight when Avalon cannonballed into the water. As she began a splash war with the younger capital, Avalon couldn't help but take back her earlier thoughts regarding the camping trip.

Spending time with Claire Bonnefoy wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

><p>End chapter<p>

* * *

><p>(1) <em>"'I should like to meet him,' I said. 'If I am to lodge with anyone, I should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I…'"<em> - this is a direct quote from "A Study in Scarlet", which is a Sherlock Holmes story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle told from the point of view of Watson. It's from the first chapter (page 9 of _The Complete Sherlock Holmes volumn 1_ published by Barnes & Noble.) [Yeah, I know that's not the proper way for citing where I got the quote.]

-.-.-

And so Claire Bonnefoy, representing Paris, France, makes her first appearance!

I adore the rivalry between Claire and Avalon. Of course, the age difference makes things a little awkward.

Avalon mentions Mamoru and Friedrich at some point and since I know not everyone is reading the others in the series, I should explain who they are and why Avalon would mention them. (Though I don't think I've gotten to write their friendship in anything yet... I will soon.)

Mamoru is China and Japan's son and represents the island of Kyushu. Friedrich is the son of Germany and Italy and represents Berlin. The three of them met while their parents were at a world meeting and became fast friends. Of the trios and duos I've had the kids form into, theirs is my favorite.


End file.
